Essay about Mistake in the Restaurant

Decent Essays
The tinkling of forks on ceramic plates was what first stirred Frank from his seemingly bottomless slumber. He groped about for consciousness, but the effort was in vain, like trying to grip oil in the hand. The clinking grew louder and was soon framed on the backdrop of dozens of voices that blended together into a fuzzy indistinguishable surface. A few seconds later the smell of coffee and hot sweet pastries broke through, then blurry light began to cloud his eyes.
Frank moved one finger and then another. The pressure on his body drew his awareness to the fact that he was sitting in a chair, a hard chair, probably made of wood. He wiggled his toes inside of his shoes and felt the thick cotton socks against his feet. As the light grew he
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Frank’s eyes were wide and straining, searching for point of familiarity, something he could recognize that would allow him to make sense of this place and these people, but he could find nothing. The women were complete strangers to him, the place was unknown and he could not remember anything before waking here, now, but clearly he had been here for some time, eating and drinking, and this group of friends thought it appropriate. Then Frank did something that drew the heart from him.
Without thought or reason, he slipped the hand that was on his lap and closest to his neighbor, off of his leg and onto the warm smooth skin of the woman’s beside him. He did so in such a way that the others at the table would have no means of detecting it and then he gave it a gentle squeeze. From the corner of his eye Frank could see the curve of her lips turn slightly upward into a stealthy guileful smile. Frank’s heart raced.
Then he thought of the empty chair. Who had left it? He looked at her left hand and saw a wedding ring. He looked at his and saw only skin. Was this his wife and he just didn’t wear a ring? Was this the wife of whoever owned the empty chair?
She reached over and gave his hand a squeeze and then looked toward the bathrooms at the back corner of the café. Frank wanted to run.
The waitress came up the table and, looking at Frank, asked, “Would you like me to warm up your coffee for
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